


Why, Mr. Ford

by sleepymccoy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, bones has got this shit, i feel like im not doing the right sorta tags here, original character wrecks shit up, scotty and bones are bros, theres a little violence type stuff but its mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:37:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scotty and Bones are hanging out in the transporter room when a Lieutenancy interrupts them in a very unpleasant way. Then Spock joins the fray.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why, Mr. Ford

McCoy's laugh rang through the transporter room. Scotty glanced at him in amusement. “That's a blatant lie!” Scotty shouted over the top of him. 

 

“Oh, of course,” McCoy managed through his chuckles. “You're very respectful of proper procedure,” he said sarcastically.

 

Scotty laughed and returned his focus to the open panel before him. McCoy stayed leaning against the transporter console, his eyes roaming around the room happily. Just as McCoy was about to have another go at Scotty for this off the books fix of the transporter, the door to the room opened and in walked a young man in a yellow shirt. 

 

Scotty turned to see who had walked in. “Lieutenant Ford, what can we do for you here?” Scotty asked. McCoy raised a kind eyebrow in question.

 

Ford stalled his gait upon seeing the two of them. His hands were held stiffly behind his back. “Ah, Mr. Scott, I didn’t expect to see anyone here,” he said haltingly.

 

“No, no, I’m just checking the couplings here, they’ve been playing up,” Scotty muttered, setting the console to standby to be sure it wouldn't overload while he was distracted

 

McCoy straightened up, standing with his arms crossed. Ford seemed really quite nervous, which was uncommon on this ship. Even if he'd walked in on two senior officers. “You alright there, Andrew?”

 

“Yes, Doctor, thank you. Um…” Ford trailed off, glancing quickly between the console behind McCoy and the transporter pad.

 

“You seem stressed,” McCoy said softly. Maybe the kid just needed someone to talk to. Or perhaps he usually came here to calm down and wasn't prepared for company. 

 

Ford sighed greatly and took a few small steps towards McCoy. Scotty was distracted, studying his magnetic wrench, deciding which polar to set it to. 

 

“Look, Doctor,” Ford said. McCoy smiled encouragingly at him. Ford looked distraught for a moment, the flash of strong emotion taking McCoy quite by surprise. Ford tore his eyes away from McCoy and looked at Scotty. “Mr. Scott, I’m very sorry to do this but, ah, could you just, ah, put your tools down and sit over there,” he said, gesticulating towards the edge of the transporter pad with one arm, the other still behind his back. 

 

McCoy uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, staring at Ford in shock, suddenly filled with a strong foreboding. Scotty looked at him and let out a confused laugh. “What’s that, laddie?” he asked, sharing a worried glance with McCoy.

 

Ford cringed for a moment then swore loudly and seemed to square his shoulders and took one sudden, confident step towards McCoy. In a flash he had McCoy in his grip and a knife to his throat.

 

“Hey!” McCoy called out. The knife bit at his throat alarmingly, and he quickly resolved to keep his voice down.

 

Scotty stood up furiously. “What’re you-”

 

“Down!” Ford yelled, interrupting him. “Sit down!” He pointed with the knife towards the corner again before bringing it back up to McCoy's throat. McCoy caught a glimpse of red on the knife. This was not happening.

 

Scotty put his hands up and walked slowly over to the indicated corner. His eyes were wide and he seemed unsure what to do. Rogue crewmen weren't covered in basic training. And it had been quite some time since he or McCoy had taken a refresher course sober. They usually teamed up, got pissed, and filled in the online questionnaire together. 

 

After a moment of listening to Ford’s heavy breathing McCoy tried speaking again. “Ok…” he said placatingly, angling for some control.

 

“Be quiet, please, Doctor McCoy,” Ford beseeched. “Just let me think.”

 

McCoy paused for a moment before going for it again. “Look, I’m sure we can discuss this and- Ow!” 

 

Ford had flicked the knife up, cutting his cheek shallowly before bringing it back down to rest against his gullet. “Doctor, this is a very sharp knife and if you continue to talk I will hurt you. I don’t want to, but this is important, ok?” Ford said quietly.

 

McCoy went quiet and stayed that way. He could feel a small drop of blood falling down his face. That was a damned sharp knife.

  
“Ford, what do you want?” Scotty asked tensely from the edge of the transporter.. 

 

Ford took a calming breath and said, “Nothing too much, I just need to get to the pla-”

 

He was interrupted by the door to the room opening. 

 

Spock walked in, his head bowed as he studied a Padd in his hands, oblivious to the dramatic scene. “Mr. Scott, I have the equipment you requested from Ensign Barrows, I wish to ask y-” he cut himself short when he looked up and came face to face with a bleeding McCoy in the arms of a Lieutenant. McCoy's heart thudded, this was the last thing he needed. He could’ve handled this fine, but Spock complicated things.

 

“Spock!” McCoy said in fake cheeriness. “Terrible timing.”

 

Spock looked slowly around the room, taking in Scotty sitting against the wall and the pattern of shallow cuts in McCoy's neck and cheek. “Lieutenant Ford, what is the meaning of this?” he said quietly.

 

“I just need to beam down to the planet!” Ford shouted, the knife pulling tighter across McCoy's throat in his emotion. McCoy lifted his chin, looking at Spock worriedly. “I was meant to be on the away team! This room was meant to be empty! This shouldn’t be happening!” McCoy closed his eyes, trying to keep himself calm.

 

Spock's eyes grew wide in alarm, watching the stain of blood on McCoys shirt growing larger. He knelt down slowly and placed the equipment he'd carried in on the floor.“Lieutenant, please calm down,” he said tightly, raising an arm as one does to an enraged animal.

 

Ford breathed for a moment and the pressure on McCoy's windpipe eased. Ford rested his chin on McCoy's shoulder and glared at Spock and Scotty. “Mr. Scott, please leave your hands on the ground where I can see them,” Ford requested. Scotty did so quickly. “Mr. Spock, I want you over here,” he said. Spock followed his gaze and came to a stop directly before McCoy. “There, stop there please,” Ford said. 

 

McCoy opened his eyes to find Spock directly in front of him. Spock was looking at him, McCoy could see a hint of panic bubbling beneath his calm expression.

 

“I’m fine,” McCoy croaked out, making an effort to move his throat as little as possible. Spock shook his head minutely, his nostrils flared.

 

Ford suddenly shifted behind him, the knife swaying in its spot. McCoy let out an almost annoyed breath, the constant new shallow nicks and slices on his throat beginning to be more tiresome than scary.

 

Ford pulled a wire from his pocket and passed it to McCoy. “Doctor, use this and tie his hands together,” he instructed.

 

“What, with this?” McCoy asked sharply.

 

“Yes, do it.”

 

McCoy felt the wire for a moment then sent Spock an apologetic look, certain he wouldn't appreciate his next sentence. “No, this will cut off his circulation completely. It’s far too thin,” he said clearly. Spock glared at him. 

 

“Just do it!” Ford said, the flat of the knife knocking against the underside of his chin.

 

“Listen, son,” McCoy snapped. “You do not want to injure the First Officer, that will result in one furious Captain coming your way. Whatever business you have down on that planet will go better if you don’t hurt Spock.”

 

Ford went quiet for a few seconds. Then he seemed to sag forwards onto McCoys back, leaning on him for support. “My girl’s on that planet. I just want to live there. None of the official channels would allow my transfer,”he muttered. “So I need you to set up the transporter for me.”

 

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Do it yourself,” he said.

 

“I intended to,” Ford said in exasperation. “But since you three are here I can’t very well turn my back on you.”

 

“I shall program it,” Spock offered quickly.

 

“No!” Ford said immediate. “You know the system too well, you could bounce the signal back or something. The Doctor will do it.” Spock’s lips tightened in annoyance. Ford sighed, the air rushing past McCoy's ear. “So, Mr. Spock, will you take your shirt off?”

 

“What?” Scotty muttered tiredly in his corner.

 

“Pardon?” Spock asked.

 

“How does that follow?” McCoy asked incredulously. 

 

Ford chuckled, the sound mildly hysterical. “I promise I’m not flirting with you, take your shirt off and wrap it around your wrists,” he said in amusement, as if he were sharing a joke with friends. “Doctor, will you then agree to tie his hands together with the wire?”

 

McCoy looked seriously at Spock, raising an eyebrow in question. Spock blinked his agreement. “Yes, that’s fine,” McCoy said. 

 

Spock tugged his blue shirt off, keeping his blacks on. He laid it lightly over his wrists. He took another step towards McCoy so he was within reach without making him strain against the knife still resting on his throat. McCoy layered the fabric around to ensure Spock's wrists were entirely protected. 

 

“Are you calm?” Spock murmured to McCoy as he reluctantly pulled the wire out.

 

“Bit shaky, but I’m good,” McCoy said. He made Spock hold one end of the wire as he wrapped it around his wrists. He made it as loose as he dared with Ford looking over his shoulder, which wasn't very loose at all. He tied the knot so that it sat in Spock's palm, hoping his simple tying and placement would mean Spock could easily undo it.

 

Spock glanced from McCoy's eyes down to his bleeding throat. “Take care,” he said quietly. 

 

“You too, no risks,” McCoy whispered. He slipped his hand down out of view and squeezed Spock's hand tightly.

 

“What’re you so worried about?” Ford said. McCoy started, not expecting the sound. “You hate him.”

 

“I don’t hate him” McCoy muttered dejectedly, letting his hands fall away from Spock.

 

Ford shrugged. “Mr. Spock, turn around please,” he said. Spock did so and Ford pushed McCoy forwards to stand directly behind him. 

 

With both men in arms reach Ford quickly transferred the knife from McCoy's throat to Spock's and tried to push McCoy out from between them. McCoy didn't move. “What?” McCoy said sharply. “No, no deal, keep the knife on me,” McCoy demanded, gripping Spock's black shirt in his fists.

 

“Doctor, move,” Ford said in exasperation.

 

“Doctor,” Spock said with a calm certainty, the order clear in his tone.

 

“Dammit,” McCoy muttered and stepped to the side, a hand trailing on Spock's waist reluctantly, leaving Ford free to grab ahold of the cooperating Vulcan. 

 

Ford turned the two of the around and McCoy winced at the sight of Spock's blood already on the blade.

 

“Ok, Doctor, you know how to program this?” Ford asked.

 

McCoy looked at the complicated unit. “Not - not really,” he said, playing dumb.

 

“Ok, the coordinates are already in there, you’ve just got to set it up for one person, one way,” Ford said. 

 

McCoy nodded. He began punching in the correct sequence. “Move slowly, I wanna see your hands,” Ford instructed, leaning forward to see the whole surface of the console. His movement shifter the knife against Spock's throat. Spock let out a hiss as he was further cut.

 

“Alright, alright,” McCoy said quickly, slowing his hands. “Just be careful with his neck, yeah?”

 

Ford ignored him, but did lessen the pressure on Spock. Once McCoy had completed the sequence Ford said, “Set a ten second timer.” 

 

McCoy frowned. He pointed at a yellow button by the screen. “Here?” he asked. He glanced at Spock and noticed him working slowly but surely on freeing his hands. The wire was already coming loose. McCoy looked away swiftly, not wanting to draw Ford's attention. 

 

“No, there, the green one. And turn that dial to ten,” Ford instructed, paying close attention to McCoy's actions. McCoy did as he was instructed as slowly as he dared. “Ok good, go and sit in the corner over there, Doctor,” Ford said, pointing to the back corner with his knife. 

 

The moment he removed the knife from Spock's neck, Spock elbowed him in the gut, spun around and delivered a quick and accurate nerve pinch, sending Ford to the ground in a heap. While McCoy was still recovering from the shock, Spock quickly picked up the knife and placed it on the transporter console.

 

“Bloody well done, Mr. Spock!” Scotty called out.

 

“Shit, Spock!” McCoy yelled as he darted over to Spock to check his neck. He placed a hand on Spock’s cheek to keep his head still and leant in. Spock kept shifting in an effort to study McCoys cuts in return. “Would you quit moving, let me have a look,” McCoy grumbled. 

 

“Doctor, I am not seriously injured,” Spock said. McCoy ignored him and lightly thumbed back the skin on his neck to check the depth of the cuts. Spock stood still and let him. The blood had mostly clotted and all of Spock's wounds seemed superficial. “Mr. Scott, if you would contact the Captain and security, please?” Spock called to him.

 

“Security should be here in just a moment, Sir, I sent an emergency signal out a few minutes ago,” Scotty said as he walked over to the communications console.

 

McCoy took a step back. “Quick clean and regen, you'll be fine,” he said, patting Spock on the cheek. “Scotty, how in hell’s name did you call security?”

 

“Communication wires run right past where he sat me, I just tapped into them while he was distracted,” Scotty said casually as he dialled for the Bridge on the wall console.

 

“Well done, Scotty!” McCoy nodded, impressed. Spock's hand was suddenly at the back of his head, holding him still. McCoy looked at him in confusion until Spock tilted his head back to reveal his neck.

 

“It's nothing, Spock,” McCoy groaned. Spock merely shushed him and inspected his wounds. 

 

“Some of the deeper cuts are still bleeding. We should go directly to med bay,” Spock said calmly. “Mr. Scott, inform the Captain we shall meet him in the med bay for a recount of this. Mr. Ford shall remain unconscious for another twenty seven minutes, I estimate. Please remain here until security arrives.”

 

“Aye sir,” Scotty said before turning back to the wall console to talk to Kirk.

 

Spock attempted to put his hand around McCoy to lead him out. McCoy batted him away quickly, grumbling, “I can walk damn fine.” 

 

Spock removed his hands with a wry smile, picked his shirt up off the floor and followed McCoy out of the room. They encountered security as soon as they left and Spock informed them that Scotty was waiting for them with the subdued Ford. 

 

McCoy confidently walked the corridor, holding his hand to his neck to try and cover the blood still dripping through his fingers. It didn’t work and he found himself glaring at various crewmen who stared at him as he passed. This was going to do wonders for his reputation, he thought forlornly. He was already considered somewhat terrifying, walking down the hallway holding his neck together would just add to that.

 

As they turned the corner to the med bay, Chapel came pelting out of the door to meet them. “Nurse,” McCoy said in greeting, “If you could take a look at Mr. Spock…” McCoy trailed off as Nurse Chapel entirely ignored him and began dabbing at his neck with a wipe. “Nurse, Mr Spock…” He trailed off again as Chapel glared at him.

 

“Scotty called ahead, and he was correct. You are clearly the priority case,” Chapel said smartly, running a scanner over his throat to check the bacteria level. “Mr. Spock, if you’ll head inside, Dr. M’Benga is waiting for you,” Chapel muttered, glancing briefly at Spock before returning her gaze to the tri-corder. Spock nodded and walked past them to the med bay. 

 

Chapel gave McCoy’s neck a quick wipe with something that stung horribly. McCoy hissed and grimaced, receiving a dismissive look from Chapel for complaining. She finished up quickly, spraying his neck and placing a clean cloth on his neck with instructions to hold it in place. She grabbed his arm and unforgivingly tugged him towards the med bay. 

 

“I’m glad you’re ok, Leo, but really. Knife wounds at two pm on a Wednesday,” Chapel muttered scathingly.

 

McCoy chuckled, holding the cloth to his neck as they entered his emergency room. M’Benga was already nearly finished with the dermal regeneration unit on Spock. Before McCoy was properly settled sitting next to Spock on the same bed Kirk walked in.

 

“Gentlemen,” Kirk called, “What happened?” He strolled over and stood in front of them in concern. “Bones, you’re still bleeding!” He cried out. McCoy nodded mildly. “Nurse,” Jim said to Chapel, “I assume you’re aware he’s bleeding?”

 

“Yes, Captain, I am well aware of the situation,” Chapel said. “If you would move to the side please.” 

 

Kirk slid to the side, standing directly in front of Spock and asked him for a report. As Spock clinically described the events after he’d entered the transporter room, Chapel stood before McCoy and carefully removed the cloth, deftly padding any new droplets of blood. She ran the dermal regen over his neck and, once complete, nodded her satisfaction. 

 

“Be sure to chew your food properly for the next few days, Leo, you nicked your esophagus,” Chapel instructed as she packed up.  “Shall I get you a lollipop for being so good?” She asked cheerily.

 

“No need, Nurse, I was simply emulating correct patient behaviour for the benefit of our guests,” McCoy said with heavy sarcasm as he turned to glare pointedly at Spock and Kirk. Kirk pointed to himself in an exaggerated innocence.

 

“I've never been offered a lollipop,” Kirk said, grinning. 

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow. “No, funny that.”

 

“Doctor,” Spock said, “If you would fill us in on the events prior to my arrival?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Scotty and I were having a yarn and Ford just strolls in out of the blue.” McCoy paused to tug his blood stained shirt off.

 

“What we're all of you doing in the transporter room in the first place?” Kirk asked.

 

“Ah…” McCoy trailed off and glanced at Spock.

 

“I believe Mr. Scott was attending to some repairs,” Spock said.

 

Kirk shook his head. “I didn't sign off on any work in Transporter B this week,” he said, side eyeing McCoy suspiciously. 

 

McCoy cleared his throat. “I wouldn't know anything about that, you'd have to talk to Scotty.”

 

“Aha.” Kirk looked unimpressed.

 

“Anyway,” McCoy said hurriedly, “Ford walks in and he looked pretty nervous, but he wasn’t talking much. Then, with no real warning, he’s got a knife at my throat and is telling Scotty to sit down. He cut my cheek to prove it was sharp, then Spock walked in. I guess he’s told you the rest, right?”

 

“Alright, well I’m very relieved you’re both ok. All three of you, for that matter.

 

“Now, you’re both good to get back on duty?” Kirk asked. They nodded. “Ok, Spock I’ll expect you on the Bridge in thirty minutes, you can do whatever you like to calm down until then-”

 

“I do not need to calm down, Captain, I am unaffected,” Spock said, looking at McCoy in confusion as he tried to study Spock's neck for residual damage. He seemed perfectly fine, but McCoy was determined to give him a proper checkup anyway. He trusted his staff, but Spock was his.

 

“Either way, take thirty minutes. Oh, and I want complete reports by the end of the day. See you later, Bones. Spock, relax,” Kirk said, looking at both of them pointedly. He squeezed McCoy's arm lightly then left.

 

McCoy sighed. “Spock,” he said, aware it had become his responsibility to ensure Spock relaxed, “Would you like to have a drink with me, darling?”

 

Spock looked at him curiously for a moment. “You should not drink, we must return to duty shortly,” he said.

 

McCoy stood up, gesturing Spock to join him. “Why d'you assume alcohol? I was going to have a coffee, if you must know.”

 

Spock nodded and stood up, following McCoy to his office. “I would prefer tea,” he said.

 

“Figures.”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I honestly started writing this without spones but it's a part of me now and I can't ignore it. I love myself too much.


End file.
